It’s half term and therefore I feel partially human once more.
You should know by now that I have blogger bursts and barren blogger bum notes but today she’s back. The over opinionated, bitter lover, sarcastic shooting singular.
Lovely to meet you.
I’m not a very enthusiastic fan of football, I have lost a fair bet in my time supporting Arsenal and a specific Tottenham fan has taken a great deal of joy from my loss. I have never been to a match, never owned a football however I am a Silver Arsenal Member. Hardcore Gooner for life bruv init.
Football to me has always been a sport for which pansy men kick a ball and earn more in a week than I do all year. The fans vary in eloquence, style and maturity but are all there with the same purpose. Footballers are often reported diving, falling over and even biting, so why was I so surprised to read this headline?
Paris police launch inquiry after Chelsea fans seen abusing black man on film
People from our country travelled to support their team and found it necessary to stop a French civilian from boarding a train that he pays tax for every month. They were proud to be racist they said. Proud to prevent someone from getting home from work. Proud of humiliating another human being. Proud of being utterly vile.
That’s our country ladies and gentleman. No royal finery or scones and afternoon tea.
Scum, vicious racists. That’s our country. How dare they and if publicity is what they were after then fine, they have it. But if my country represents violence and vile racism then I have no want to be a part of it.
Who am I?
A woman, a teacher, a flakey fan of football. My opinion may not reach the ear of those who behave in ways that can only be described as abominable but I refuse to be represented by these disgusting specimens of humanity.
Men? You’re nothing more than big boys playing a little boys game of ‘you can’t be in our gang’ but sadly this time you’ve been caught out. Quite frankly I’d sooner gouge my eyes out with a wooden spoon than be associated with those animals.
Your mothers, I’m sure, are incredibly proud.
Your fathers, I’m sure, are cheering “Go on my son!”
Your children, I’m sure, are fantasying about terrorising their next victim in the school playground. Well…Daddy did it.
Me you ask? I have nothing more to say.